


The Doom of Men

by Numendil



Category: Christian Bible (New Testament), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Christianity, Gen, Holy Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numendil/pseuds/Numendil
Summary: A short drabble for Holy Saturday.This fic involves Christianity in Tolkien's Legendarium; if you don't like that, don't read it.
Relationships: Námo | Mandos & Eru Illúvatar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Doom of Men

**Saturday, 26 March  
Sixth Age 33**

The spirit that came before his throne was one of thousands, unremarkable at a glance, but he _knew_. He had watched this one with particular interest since Manwë had sent Eärendil back to Middle-earth to stand guard over his birth. He had long suspected that there was more to this Man than a mortal carpenter, more even than the last scion of the long-dispossessed line of the Kings of Men, but now, in his own realm, where reality was not mediated by matter, where all illusions failed, he was absolutely certain.

“Lord,” said Námo Mandos, “why?”

“‘Why?’” repeated the spirit. “You know that is not a question that can be answered within the bounds of the World-That-Is. I will tell you _why_ when it is all over and you have come home. But perhaps you meant something more specific?”

He was not accustomed to being toyed with like this. There had been no dialogue in the time before Time; he had been one with his Maker and Master, like a ray of light among millions emanating from a sun; the light had been the only question, and the only possible answers to shine, or to cast a shadow before himself. He had chosen to shine. Not all had.

“Yes,” he said. “Why do _you_ now stand before _me_ , in the guise of a mortal penitent? To be one with your Children, to teach them: that I understand. There is still so great a gulf between we whom you sent to govern the world and those for whom it is governed. But why—but _how_ —did you die?”

“I am not disguised,” said the spirit. “I _am_ a mortal, Námo, and I lay myself beneath your authority, because it is my own authority, and to deny it would be to deny Eä. I offer my penance, though I owe none, and now the debt is paid in full. The Doom of Men is broken; the Gift is yet made whole.” As he spoke his figure became larger and brighter, until he towered over Námo, and the dim Halls of Mandos were illuminated with a blinding light.

“Now, child, give me the keys.”


End file.
